Three
by TheWhoLockedSupernaturalist
Summary: The Doctor is dying. For real this time. No more regenerations. No more tricks.


The Doctor looked around. He saw the people he cared about. They had no idea he was there, that he had changed from when they knew him. The tenth incarnation of this brilliant man sighed, and walked away. He would give anything to see her again, her current self, just one more time. But he couldn't. He had foolishly allowed her to sacrifice herself.

He hadn't been able to say those three words, those words he knew she knew but he wanted to say anyways. Just three syllables, three words, three-tenths of a second. Three. There was a lot of three. Supposedly three was a lucky number, but he knew otherwise.

There was something that he had said once, in that satanic pit.

"If I believe in one thing, I believe in her." Such a simple statement, said with such ferocity. He loved her, he truly did. Love didn't come easy for the Doctor, not after the Time War.

There. Three more words that made him question his very existence, if he was a good thing the universe created, or a bad thing. The Time War. He'd destroyed two species at the same time. The Daleks, who hadn't really died, as had been proved over and over again. And the Time Lords. Not really a species, a rank. But the Time Lords were special enough that most everyone thought of them as their own species.

The Doctor thought of his TARDIS. She was beautiful, always had been. She took him everywhere, all across time and space. She kept him going after she left. She let him say goodbye to her, while burning up a sun. The TARDIS was amazing, always had been, always would be, no matter if the Doctor died.

Death was something he didn't think about often. It was no stranger to him, yet it had never fully claimed him. Just a piece. Always just a piece, because the Doctor regenerated, and when he did, he left behind his close scrapes, his scars, his personality. He became a new man.

But not this time. No, this time was actual death. No regeneration. No tricks. Just plain old death.

The Doctor made his way to 2005, where he could see Rose before she met him. She wouldn't remember him later in her time stream, would just register him as a drunk and then forget about him. She bounded inside her apartment building, and he was left alone, the TARDIS far away. He stumbled, and for a minute he thought he was going to regenerate right there, but an Ood appeared. Said something about singing.

And then the music came. It was beautiful, but sad. The Universe sang him into the TARDIS, and then some. He tossed his coat away one last time. Then he set the TARDIS in motion, his beautiful ship, and stood there for a minute. He saw a man. He looked old, and had black hair. He twisted a ring on his finger, and the Doctor knew this was Death. Three words. Always with three. "It is time." And the Doctor, this man who had battled gods and demons, replied. With three words. "I am ready."

Death nodded, and stretched out his hand. And the Doctor almost accepted it, almost. Then he heard the song, heard the universe singing him to sleep. "Farewell to you." Three words. A pattern of three, always, calling him through time and space, to that moment, to his inevitable death. All of time and space stopped, just for a moment, and everything was silent. Holding its breath, waiting for this legend to die, to fade away.

But the legend made a choice. He broke the pattern of three, with five syllables, five words. Five, two more than three, that had the power to change his fate, if only to delay it, if only for 5 minutes. Because in a world of threes, the one with five is safe. Safe from those three inevitable seconds of limbo, three eternities in heaven or hell. Safe from the three words which can destroy a career, if given the chance ("You are fired.") Safe from the terrifying three, which is every good and bad thing that has happened, that is happening, and has yet to happen. Three decisions can mean the difference between life and death. Three is a number, it is only a number, but given the chance it is a god.

But the Doctor, he broke this pattern of three. His five words, two more than three, which were powerful enough to break the tie between two parallel worlds. "I don't want to go." And Death looked at him, surprised. Then he faded away, for a long time, until the death of a very important person. And far away, on a different world, a blonde sat up in bed. She felt different, felt her heart being stitched back together.

And this blonde heard a noise. It sounded like background noise to most everyone, but not to her. She heard her past calling to her, demanding that she come and find it, that she spend the rest of her life with it. She heard a glorious noise, a noise she thought she would never hear again.

And the Doctor smiled, smiled because he could finally rest. Not in peace, but with the one he loved.

The whole universe started again when the blonde heard that noise. The most important noise in creation. And select few who also heard that noise turned and grinned, because it meant a dear friend was still alive. The whole of creation stopped and listened to that noise, and it smiled. It smiled loud, and it laughed a joyous laugh.

Because Rose Tyler had heard the TARDIS.

**A/N: Standard disclaimer. Thanks for reading this if you did. Sorry if it's confusing. Reviews are appreciated, of course, as are PMs. I hope you liked it, because this is my first Doctor Who fanfic, and I'm not quite sure how it went. Oh, and one last thing. Before I go, you were fantastic. And you know what? So was I. (Three again!)**


End file.
